The People’s Games is a cliché, yet London 2012 has become precisely that

Those watching the Olympics this week may have been left with a certain ringing in their ears – not from the cheers of the crowd, or the thump of the stadium sound systems, but from the thunderous sound of preconceptions being shattered. Those who delighted in arguing that London 2012 would be a flop – that a dismal, second-class nation such as Britain could never raise its game to the required heights – have been robustly confounded. All the pre-Games fretting about the logistics, the transport, the security, have thus far proved largely groundless. Instead, the public, and our foreign guests, have found themselves in a kind of Wonderland version of Britain, in which everything works, everything comes off, and everyone smiles all the time.

Where does this feeling come from? An explanation is found in the work of Sir John Keegan, this newspaper’s eminent former defence editor, who died this week. His greatest achievement as a military historian was to write from the perspective of the soldier rather than the general, to treat war as a bottom-up rather than a top-down affair. So it is with the Olympics. It may have been the politicians and sporting bureaucrats who bid for the Games and constructed the venues, and the sponsors who emblazoned them with their logos. But the most striking feature of London 2012 has been the sense of public ownership, a whole-hearted and near-unanimous enjoyment of and participation in the whole enterprise. It is something shaped by enlightened decisions from above – such as the light touch and relaxed professionalism shown by stewards, security personnel and officials – and by the exemplary performance of so many of the home nation’s sportsmen. But it is also something that no politician or bureaucrat could have ordained. To call them the “People’s Games” is a cliché, yet they have become precisely that.

For a nation that has recently seemed unsure of its place in the world, the reception that the Games have received offers a certain reassurance. We are suddenly realising, as we did during the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, that we do not need to present ourselves to others as ancient or modern, traditional or radical, but simply as the nation we are – which happens to be a nation that the world rather likes. This comfort with the many layers of our national identity was perfectly reflected by the Olympic opening ceremony’s blend of whimsy and spectacle, and has been reinforced with every shot of beach volleyball players in Horse Guards Parade, or horses leaping towards the distant spires of Docklands from the eventing course in Greenwich Park. Indeed, given the chance to see ourselves as the world sees us, through the prism of the television lenses, we are learning to appreciate the beauty of our capital in new and delightful ways.

What is most encouraging about the Olympics, however, is the way they have raised the national mood – or rather, transformed it. A culture often dominated by cynicism, pessimism and complaint is experiencing the heady effects of a daily infusion of optimism and joy. The pleasure is all the greater because of the bittersweet aftertaste, the knowledge that it cannot and will not last: we may summon some of the same happy spirit for the Paralympic Games, but by and large, at the end of the closing ceremony, the party will be well and truly over.

Which raises the question: what next? Will this happy spirit simply vanish, snuffed out alongside the Olympic cauldron? Certainly, the empty streets in central London suggest that the promised economic boost will be hard to come by. There will be a sporting legacy, not least in the form of the stunning venues that will now be put at the community’s service. But the real consequence of the Games, if they continue on this golden path, will be more psychological than monetary, or even sporting.

They will stand as a reminder that our position in the global medal table is not as low as we might think – that we are a world-class country, with world-class people, capable of doing world-class things. We are a country that flies its flag with pride, but is happy to applaud the achievements of others. A country that does not hide itself from the world, but proudly shows off its values and its accomplishments. A country whose capital is one of the great global cities – perhaps even the greatest. A country that is proud of its Armed Forces, its sportsmen, its monarchy, its sense of humour, and of so much more.

This, perhaps, is the reason that Boris Johnson, the Mayor of London, has become the politician with whom the Games are most identified. His essential appeal is that he bucks people up rather than bringing them down – just like the Olympics themselves. We know that we are in a grim economic situation, and that if the eurozone collapses, it will get grimmer. We know that our public finances are in a terrible state. And we well remember that, almost exactly a year ago, the same capital that is now en fête was scarred by terrible rioting. Yet the Games are proof and reminder that our strengths outweigh our weaknesses, and our assets our liabilities. If we can build an Olympic Park, why not a Boris Island? If we can breed world-beating sportsmen, why not more world-beating businessmen? That would truly be the greatest Olympic legacy of all – the rebirth of a Britain that dares to dream.